


Mentorship

by Lyssandra_Med



Series: Number One [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Muggle, Alternate Universe - Serial Killers, Dark Hermione Granger, Established Relationship, F/F, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-21
Updated: 2020-08-21
Packaged: 2021-03-06 14:47:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,978
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26030656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lyssandra_Med/pseuds/Lyssandra_Med
Summary: Hermione has always been fascinated by Bellatrix. Now, she finally has a chance to prove what she's learned.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Bellatrix Black Lestrange
Series: Number One [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1889533
Comments: 15
Kudos: 69





	Mentorship

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SandwichBandit](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SandwichBandit/gifts).



> Mild-Editing

“You need to press down, further-”

“Shut up!” Hermione swiped upwards, fingernails as claws and barely missing her lover’s face. She pushed when Bellatrix ducked, palm flat against her chest and enough force sent through to leave the older woman standing against the back wall.

Bellatrix sighed and bowed her head, leaning close again, “You’ll never be able to finish it that way in real life. It takes too long. You don’t have the strength for it, and don’t take that to mean you can’t do it! You can, you just can’t do it like  _ that.” _

“Yes I can!” Hermione exclaimed, pulling back to sit on her haunches and stare down into the CPR dummy’s blank face.

Bellatrix tutted, a hand reaching out to brush long curls of brown from Hermione’s face. “No, no. You might have strength but it isn’t enough, and you don’t have the weight for it anyways. It takes much more than upper body strength to hold your hands there, you need to lean in as well.  _ You _ have to hold them down, and if you can’t manage that then it’s pointless.”

Hermione protested it, again. Argued, used Bellatrix for practice and was suitably red in the face when the older woman managed to flip her off and onto her back.

“You see?” Bellatrix pulled Hermione close, sat her down into her lap. One hand wandered up beneath the hem of Hermione’s shirt while the other dipped low between the waistband of her shorts. She kept her ministrations moving until the younger woman had calmed, breathless and silent as the energy in the room began to dissipate.

They’d dressed for a workout, light clothes in a dim room that was only lit from above by one single, shaded light. The mat beneath them both was sticky from the sweat that rolled off their bodies and the spaces between were darkened by the steam rising off of their skin. This was as much a workout as a lesson, a ritual of sorts, and a steady compression of time until Hermione’s first attempt.

The sex that came after every lesson was as much a part of it as anything else and Bellatrix had to admit that her little minx was  _ wild _ when she’d been pissed off.

And Bellatrix knew that she  _ excelled _ at that.

“Fine.”

“Fine what?” Bellatrix asked, biting into the meat of Hermione’s shoulder.

“Fine,  _ Mistress.” _ Hermione leaned back into Bellatrix’s chest, her head leaning off of her lover’s shoulder. “So I can’t do it that way. So what  _ can _ I do? You gave me a timeline, we’re approaching it rather swiftly now.”

Bellatrix didn’t answer straight away. Instead she fell into thought while the hand between Hermione’s legs began to move, passion in every press of skin on skin. It gyrated, twisted, led the woman in her lap to follow and lead. The other hand followed a well-worn path from navel to breast, long nails scratching in time with her ideas.

“How about using a knife?”

\---

Sweat trickled heavily down the back of Hermione’s neck, prickly and sticky and leaving her cotton shirt too uncomfortably bunched up against the small of her back. Breath exploded from her in little startled gasps, twinges that left her heart beating uncomfortably in her chest.

This was it.

Now or never.

She’d never again get a chance like this. If she were caught or failed in this then it would be on her to suffer the consequences of such a fuck up. After so many years of following -  _ and then living with _ \- Bellatrix she knew she couldn’t fail, knew the penalty for any mistakes.

Failure would mean her death.

Failure would mean no more Bellatrix.

Failure meant that there would be no long night spent cleaning up her lover, washing red into the sink and bath while she licked clear trails across the woman’s skin.

Hermione struck out before her nerves could get the best of her.

Whether the man knew what was going to happen, had guessed or felt a flash of intuition, was moot.

He  _ reacted. _

She was already too far into motion to stop.

One hand raised up to shield his eyes from the blazing sun, Hermione having decided to take advantage of the late evening to blind him when she made her move. She reached out for his hand, made no noise as she did so and watched as he brought the other to bare.

Bad move.

Bad idea.

It left his belly open, his suitcoat unbuttoned and the belt just below where she was aiming.

The knife Bellatrix had given her was a pretty thing; three-sided in a fashion that had matched the bayonets of old, meant for muskets more than hands but more than enough for this. It had been sharpened into a cutting edge and she landed a perfect blow.

He didn’t make a sound.

In and towards the left. Through his diaphragm, through his intestines and a portion of the stomach. 

He faltered, fell backwards from the momentum and pulled the knife free with his movement.

Hermione struck again. Pressed close into his space and disentangled her hand from his, the shocked expression of pain clearly lit by the delightful hues of a setting sun.

Her heart beat faster. Her breath came quicker. The edges of her fingers tingled and lightheadedness invaded her mind. She was floating as she moved, watching as she struck. The blade whipped upwards through his throat and pulled in by the direction of his fall, edges grazing and dislocating the trachea as she pushed.

He fell back, panting and then suddenly still. Alive and then suddenly dead.

Hermione stared at him with no small amount of hate evident in her honey-whisky eyes. She didn’t know him. Not really, at least. She’d been following him for more than a month, kept herself hidden behind disguises and corners.

She didn’t know him, it was a random attack.

He might have had a family, friends, a lover or a child.

But Bellatrix wasn’t one to allow that. He was here, in this place, for one reason. He was here, dead, because her mentor’s tastes had changed. Bellatrix’s attacks were still random but never on someone  _ innocent, _ never  _ just _ another person.

Bellatrix hadn’t told Hermione what it was that he had done. Perhaps it was better for her that way. Perhaps she’d have been just a touch more reckless if she’d known.

A second passed and then she ran.

\---

When Bellatrix finally found her, scooped her up and dropped her to the floor of their dingy little van, there wasn’t much that Hermione could do except sit there and reflect.

Nowhere to run. Nowhere to go. Nothing to do. No way to burn off all this excess energy, the waves of  _ something _ lapping at her core. She could hardly pay any attention at all as Bellatrix drove away, her movement fine and slow as she obeyed every traffic law.

It certainly wouldn’t do to be stopped and have someone find Hermione all covered in blood. But for the most part that meant she could do little more than sit in the back of the van and pretend she didn’t’ exist. Nothing could be done at all as she sat there with her thoughts and the blood on her hands that  _ proved _ she was the danger Bellatrix represented.

Her fingers were still shaking, and Hermione observed them for minute differences. They were, after all, the hands of a murderess. There was blood across them, of course. Red and slowly darkening as it dried into a stain of rust, little flecks of it falling off her skin and down into her lap. She turned them over, stared at the little lines embedded in her palms, the rivers and valleys that were filled with red water and a story to tell.

_ She’d done it. _

“Hermione,” Bellatrix’s voice roused her from introspection, soft and warm and so very much what she needed to hear. “Dearest, look at me. Please?”

Hermione did as she was bid, looked and saw her lover in a new light. 

_ Was this how Bellatrix felt? All the time? Or just the first? _

Once upon a time, Hermione had wanted to find a killer. She’d been fascinated, too intrigued to let it go. She’d wanted to do  _ something. _ Maybe not emulate her exactly, but understand her perhaps.

But Bellatrix had managed to defy all explanation. She’d simply  _ been, _ and Hermione had fallen into her orbit, too amazed at her luck to notice how heavy she could pull.

The van stilled without Hermione noticing it too much, the wooded land she could see outside the windows just a mere backdrop to her reality.

She blinked.

She stuttered.

Found Bellatrix pulling her by the hand, body hauled up atop of Bellatrix’s lap as the woman placed a finger against her lips.

“You did good,” Bellatrix crooned, grasping Hermione’s hand and placing a coated finger into her mouth. The dark husk of her voice was tempered when she pulled the digit out, “Such a good girl.”

Hermione shivered, closed her eyes and leaned into the woman, let her finger dance across sharp teeth.

“You did so well, just as we practised it.”

A warm hand managed to find its way beneath Hermione’s shirt, swift fingers making short work of the button that held her pants up. It was but a moment more before that hand was playing with her core, clit engorged and slickness evident.

“Did you enjoy it?” Bellatrix purred, biting down against the webbing between Hermione’s thumb and finger. “Did it get you hot? You’re practically drenched down there. That knife was made just for you, pretty girl. Did you like it?”

Hermione sucked in a lungful of air that she hadn’t known she’d needed, found herself pressing down on Bellatrix’s hand. She nodded, eyes still shut, too aware of her body to do anything else.

“I can tell. It’s easy when you look. And you? You did so well, Hermione. My Pet.” Bellatrix leaned in and captured Hermione’s lips, claimed with teeth and tongue that were incessant in their attack.

Bellatrix let her ministrations continue for a minute or more, Hermione slowly coming undone in Bellatrix’s lap, her breath stolen away by the huntress. Hermione mewled, soft and sweet and so very, very warm. 

“Such a good Pet. Such a good girl. You did just what you were told, just as I told you. You know that, right?”

Hermione managed to squeak out a timid, “Yes,” rolling to her side and pressing herself further onto Bellatrix’s fingers.

“Yes what?” Bellatrix asked, her hand stilling, fingers now motionless within Hermione.

Hermione squirmed, searched for friction that Bellatrix denied her, “Mistress! Yes, yes Mistress!”

The heat built up again as Bellatrix threw herself into fucking Hermione with her hand, teeth latched tightly onto the curve of Hermione’s throat. A deep growl rumbled from her chest and then there were no words.

It continued until it didn’t. 

Hermione wasn’t sure when she came down from that high. She wasn’t sure when they made it home -  _ a different vehicle entirely and the time it had taken to move her lost _ \- with all her clothes torn off.

She  _ was _ sure of the constant praise, that sweet voice that whispered on about how well she’d done. Each moment brought her a burst of pleasure, sweetness gathering in her core as the older woman whispered against the shell of Hermione’s ear.

“Remember,” Bellatrix told her, pulling Hermione beneath the covers and wrapping her warm length around the shivering woman. “This is the first of many. You’ll do just as well the next time, won’t you?”

Hermione nodded into Bellatrix’s chest, reflected on the feeling of her knife entering the man’s body, pulling with it his life and the expectations that she’d held for so many years.


End file.
